Wednesday, January 29, 2014

8 Reasons Lucille Bluth Is My Spirit Animal

T. Mull just called me out for not blogging on Sunday.
I deserve that.
I had it all planned, 
but then I went to a Stella & Dot party and pub trivia instead.
I don't regret it. 

I took that "Which Member of the Bluth Family?" Buzzfeed quiz
(even though I'm still mad at them)
and I got Lucille. 
No surprise there. 
(Then I took it again & got Buster. Que? 
Then I took it again and got Tobias. End of my life.)
 I am choosing, for my own sanity, to latch on to my first result.

I've long believed that Lucille is one of my spirit animals:

1. She wants alcohol for breakfast
It is a daily struggle deciding not to put Bailey's in my coffee.
My responsibility & fear of getting in trouble force my hand, 
but one of these days, man, one of these days...

(Super secret-but-published-on-my-blog confession in the spirit of Groundhog Week:
I was doing a bit of student teaching during G-hog Week of my junior year.
My roommates & I were out of creamer, 
but obvi had tons of Bailey's, 
so sleepy-Mary "accidentally" put Bailey's in her coffee
& went off to shape the minds of young ones. Whateva.)

2. She doesn't know the value of a dollar
Lucille & I are kind of opposites with this one. 
I am incredibly, embarrassingly cheap.
I scrimp & scrounge in daily life now
but it's not-so-secretly because I want to be able to 
buy crazy-luxurious things throughout my life & die surrounded by wealth.
I really want someone to find my abandoned apartment 100 years later
with weird-awesome-fancy things in it.

However, I don't really know the value of a dollar, either. 
I look at a lot of things and think, "I can make that for less." And I do.
But I over-value the things that I can't do, 
like install a stereo system or do a handstand.
I would pay someone waaaay too much money
to do something I cannot or will not. 

(Side note: The ability to do a handstand determined your value in elementary school.
I had to make up for it by playing soccer with the boys at recess
& having the coolest stickers on my binder.
This obviously affected me deeply.)
3. She chooses favorites
It instills a healthy sense of competition to play favorites with your children.
The family "favorite child" changed often;
as in, whenever one of us did something Mumsie Dearest liked.
Don't worry, we didn't take it too seriously.
We are naturally over-competitive, anyway.

4. She always wants a drink
Ain't nobody got time for sobriety.

5. She exaggerates everything
Me, to a T. 
Hyperbole is a way to vent.
Obviously, my job is not an actual hellhole, 
but imagining & describing it as such helps relieve the tension.
(But also it sometimes actually is, so shut up about your jobs.)

6. She has road rage
I get passive aggressive road rage. 
When I call a fellow driver "friend", it means the opposite: 
we are the bitterest of enemies
& I would like to ram the back of your Obama-voting, 
COEXIST-believing, idiot Prius.

7. She is anti-social 
I wish, very often, that I could be a hermit.
Don't get me wrong, I adore my friends & family. 
It's the rest of the world that inspires such negativity.
Fairly often, I just want to pull a St. Benedict & leave.
But alas, I have no skills or outdoors-iness. 
I would die. 
I will just have to be a lady-hermit in my eccentric Parisian apartment.
I guess that will do.

8. She has the best comebacks
I either respond with a cutting, snarky remark
or a  playground retort. 
Panic plays a large part in which I choose.

I have many spirit animals, but Lucille is my aging-gracefully
& preserved-by-alcohol spirit animal. 

As I mentioned, this week is Groundhog Week. 
I am tremendously excited & probably won't post again until Monday.

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